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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25026742">two good friends</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shudder/pseuds/shudder'>shudder</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, First Meetings, Gen, Past Tuggerina, Past Tuggoffelees, Underage Drinking, i mean technically theyre both 19 though so lmao</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:47:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,654</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25026742</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shudder/pseuds/shudder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, I’m Bombalurina. The most recent addition to the list of Tugger exes.” She paused. “Except you, I s’pose.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bombalurina &amp; Mr. Mistoffelees</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>two good friends</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i told myself i was done writing cats fic and then this came to me in a dream</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Misto didn’t like to attend these things - he didn’t know anyone, and he didn’t much care for booze. Well, not cheap beer and definitely not whatever the bright blue liquid in half these cups was. So he stood near a wall, vaguely bouncing in time with the punk band that was so loud he was surprised campus police hadn’t come by yet. He looked and felt out of place, with his clean, untattered tuxedo jacket and slacks, and was silently wishing he hadn’t let Tori talk him into going. She said it would be good for him to get out and meet some people that weren’t part of his ex’s entourage, and Jemima had suggested a place she liked. He could hardly get a word in edgewise before he was agreeing to be home by two am. </p>
<p>So, here he was. Standing by a wall, water bottle in hand, and probably the only sober person in attendance. Before long, however, a very sloshed, very tall girl with a studded leather jacket and close-shaven bright red hair came over to make conversation. He smiled curtly and waved, hardly able to hear her over the guitar solo. </p>
<p>“HEY! You’re,” something something something, she said. Her arms were gesticulating widely, and her face had a sloppy grin plastered on it. Plastered was definitely the right word, he thought. </p>
<p>From his past experience with drunk college girls, mostly fans of Tugger’s, he knew she wouldn’t be going away without getting what she wanted. So, he motioned for her to follow him onto the porch, where it was a tiny bit quieter and he could pull out his earplugs. Tugger had always made fun of him for the earplugs, but Misto had sensitive ears so he had always brushed off the teasing, tried not to let it affect him. That’s just how Tugger was. </p>
<p>As if sensing his line of thinking, the drunk girl plopped herself down on the ground next to him and said, “You’re with the Rum Tum Tugger aren’t you? I’ve seen you on his insta.” She reached a hand over to touch his long hair, and he deftly avoided it. </p>
<p>“Well, until recently yeah. Why?” He didn’t really want to talk about the breakup, the whole point of this excursion into the local punk scene was to get away from the indie rock kids and meet some people who weren’t obsessed with Tugger. Apparently, this had failed. </p>
<p>“He doesn’t know what he’s missin’ darlin’.” She took another swig of the sickly smelling blue alcohol, and Misto had half a mind to cut her off as he watched a large portion of it fly out of the cup.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m Bombalurina. The most recent addition to the list of Tugger exes.” She paused. “Except you, I s’pose.” She then shrugged, in the exaggerated way only a truly inebriated teenager can. </p>
<p>“Yeah.” Mistoffelees wasn’t sure what else to say, other than that. What was Bombalurina looking for? A chance to get back with Tugger? A chance to get even, maybe? She hadn’t known they’d broken up, so maybe she just wanted to know how Tugger was. </p>
<p>“He kinda sucks, doesn’t he?”</p>
<p>“What?” He snort-laughed at that, caught off guard with how blunt it was. Although, on second thought, that didn’t surprise him. He figured she was probably a take-no-shit person even without blue liquid. He also figured he should probably learn what that alcohol was called before he left. </p>
<p>“Tugger. He sucks. I mean, sure, the indie groupies all like all over him or whatever, especially that blonde girl that looks like she’s still in middle school.”</p>
<p>“Etcetera.” Misto interjected, a smile creeping onto his lips. “And she’s 18.” </p>
<p>Bombalurina rolled her eyes, and her head went around with them. “Middle school. Anyway, they all love him ‘cause he puts on a good show, right? And the sex is good. I’m sure you know that, Mr. Twink. But then it’s like ‘Oh, sorry Bombalurina, I’m going out with the band tonight. Oh, I can’t you’ll mess up my curls.’ Like give me a break.” </p>
<p>The Mr. Twink comment made Misto blush, but he couldn’t deny the rest of what she was saying, even if he viewed it differently. “He just needs his guy time. That’s all. But I did hate how I’d get pushed to the side at shows, I guess.” Misto wasn’t one to talk bad about his exes usually. That didn’t mean he couldn’t tell the truth. “And, you know, he was super interested in my magic? But not as my own magician, only in conjunction with the band.” His ears started to get hot thinking about that, and before he realized it, he’d grabbed the cup out of Bombalurina’s hand and taken a swig. Blue raspberry. Weird, and not that good, but the warmth it put in his chest was pleasant, so he downed the rest. </p>
<p>“He wanted me to be a backup dancer for the band. Like first of all, what was I supposed to do? Interpretive dance to fuckin’ shoegaze?” She burst into laughter at that, her long legs kicking up and down in the air. </p>
<p>Misto leaned back, laying completely flat on the porch. He took it on faith that no one would step on him. “I hate shoegaze. I just put up with it for his sake. I’m not even super into this punk stuff, either.” He admitted, waving his arms toward the source of all that punk stuff. “I’m a theatre kid. I have a signed Wicked CD in my car.” </p>
<p>The redhead turned so that she was facing him, both of them now laying down. “One of the girls from my dance school got into the tour of that,” she told him very stoically. “She’s very good.”</p>
<p>“That’s really cool,” Mistoffelees said, nodding. “You a professional dancer, then? Not just a hobby?”</p>
<p>The drunken girl nodded, slowly and deliberately, then replied, “Dance is a lifestyle.” </p>
<p>Misto, starting to feel the effects of the booze, reached out and put a hand on her face, his dark eyes wide. “I want to watch you dance.” </p>
<p>She jumped up, and Misto was suddenly staring at what seemed like miles of legs. “Let’s go. I stole a keycard to the practice hall so I have unlimited access.”</p>
<p>Slowly pulling himself up, Misto replied, “Well, in that case I want more of the blue stuff. I don’t tend to break and enter sober.”</p>
<p>“It’s not breaking and entering! I have a key!” Bombalurina protested, but started making her way back inside to the table of various alcohols anyway. When she came back out, she was holding a bottle of the stuff, which Misto could now identify as MD 20/20, and they were off. </p>
<p>Misto didn’t make a habit of wandering off with girls he met at parties, and he definitely didn’t make a habit of semi-quasi-legal breaking and entering, but for some reason, that night he felt like this was where the universe wanted him. And above all, he didn’t like to make a habit of ignoring the universe. It was cold out, and Mistoffelees was shivering by the time they arrived at the large brick building that Bombalurina identified as the dance studio. In truth, all the buildings on this side of campus looked the same to him, as Misto tended to only have classes on the new half, but he took her at her word.</p>
<p>The keycard Bombalurina had stolen worked, and Misto let out a sigh of relief. At least if they were apprehended by security, they would be inside and warm. “So, what are you gonna dance?” He asked as she plugged her phone into the soundsystem, missing a step and stumbling.</p>
<p>She smiled cheekily, and Misto could feel that she was sobering up as he was getting sloshed. “Take a seat. You’ll need it.” She produced a set of pointe shoes seemingly out of thin air and started tying them up over her skinny jeans. “Now, I’m not wearing the best clothes, and I’m not warmed up, so be nice.”</p>
<p>Misto nodded, his vision starting to blur, and just watched as his newfound friend danced the Sugar Plum Fairy. Somehow, even in the state he was in, he knew exactly what she was dancing. He’d been to enough of Tori’s dance recitals over the years to conduct a Tchaikovsky piece himself, he figured.</p>
<p>When she finished her variation, Misto clapped until his hands hurt.</p>
<p>“That was so good!” He tried to jump up to hug her, but fell backwards instead. She laid down next to him like before. “Did I mention I’m a lightweight?” He slurred, turning his whole body to face hers. </p>
<p>“I figured.” She tousled his messy hair. “What do you wanna do now?”</p>
<p>“Let’s go to the zoo. Wait! What time is it?” He suddenly remembered he had a twin-imposed curfew, and did not want to be on the receiving end of one of her “I trusted you and this is how you repay me?” lectures in his state.</p>
<p>Bombalurina checked her phone. “About one-thirty. Why?”</p>
<p>“Shit! I need to drive home like, right now.” He tried to stand, but she grabbed his arm and held him down.</p>
<p>“Buddy, you’re not driving anywhere in this state. Give me your phone, I’m calling an Uber.” </p>
<p>He complied, and soon enough he was loading into the car.</p>
<p>“I never got your number! I wanna hang out again!” He called out the window as they drove away. The driver, an older redheaded man, didn’t even glance in the mirror or slow down, so Misto had no choice but to just yell his Instagram username at her and hope she followed him.</p>
<p>Just as he was crawling into bed, his phone buzzed with a new follower notification, and he fell asleep content with the fact that he did, indeed, meet a new friend at the show that night.</p>
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